


To The End of Love

by lecriteuse



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dancing, F/F, Fluff, Jealousy, Romance, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unapologetic Schmoopiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 01:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13089966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecriteuse/pseuds/lecriteuse
Summary: In which a romantic dance allows for some very welcome realizations.





	To The End of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skybone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skybone/gifts).



> This story is dedicated to my dear and treasured friend, skybone. I'd apologize for how syrupy it is, but I know that you'll forgive that, for this pairing. ;)

Cassandra leaned forward, trying to stretch out a hardened knot of tension between her shoulder-blades. Now that she had caught her breath, all the myriad small injuries and aches in her body were asserting themselves. She felt completely exhausted, more so than usual after a period of drawn-out fighting. 

Perhaps she was simply getting older, tiring more easily. Even before all the action had begun, Cassandra had not exactly been energetically participating in the Game-playing and information-gathering activities that some of the other Inquisition members were involved in. She had, in fact, only reluctantly come forward to be formally introduced to the gathered nobility at Halamshiral, and then had retreated to a spot she’d chosen in hopes of being left mostly alone.

Now it was all over. For now. The Orlesian Empire would be ruled by Gaspard, and Cassandra hoped that this would bring about a certain amount of stability. It had come at the end of a long night of unpleasant formalities, fraught reconnaissance, and precarious strategizing. The actual fighting had been the easiest part, as far as Cassandra was concerned, though this was admittedly often the case with her.

The other Inquisition members who had been in the fighting were availing themselves of the ongoing celebrations (or at least, of the expensive wine, lavish spreads of food, and opulent surroundings). Although Cullen had been at least as miserable as Cassandra during the ball, Leliana and Josephine were both in their elements, and were still out there strategizing, observing, circulating among the various high-ranking guests. 

The Inquisitor herself had been celebrating with the others, but Cassandra could no longer spot her among the whorls and eddies of people moving throughout the palace’s public rooms. It was unlikely that anything untoward had happened to her, and certainly Siobhan Trevelyan was more than capable of looking after herself, but Cassandra was still not entirely comfortable not knowing here she was. Prompted by what she assumed was a sense of duty, Cassandra wandered, not speaking to anyone, looking for Siobhan.

The Inquisitor was a hard woman to miss in a crowd, even without the distinctive uniforms they had all donned for the evening. Siobhan was tall for a human woman (almost as tall as Cassandra herself), with an ample figure and long limbs, and she took up far more space than was fashionable in Orlais… which she exacerbated by gesturing frequently when she spoke. Cassandra needed only a few moments in each room to confirm the Inquisitor’s absence.

It was as Cassandra was drifting through a hallways in a less-crowded section of the palace that she found Siobhan. Without seeing the Inquisitor, Cassandra heard the unmistakable cadences of her voice drifting in through an open door onto one of the courtyard terraces. Cassandra could hear a stranger as well, a woman with a deep voice… Her curiosity getting the best of her, Cassandra stepped closer to the open door, yet off to the side, wanting to hear the conversation.

“…Knowledge alone does no harm. What I possess, I place at your disposal, to make use of or ignore as you desire,” the strange woman said.

Something about the woman’s tone — the curl of heat Cassandra thought she heard in the word _desire_ — caused something uncomfortable and heavy to squeeze Cassandra’s heart. Unthinkingly, she stepped a little further from the wall, to where she could see onto the terrace. 

The Inquisitor stood facing a woman Cassandra had seen throughout the evening. _Morrigan_ , her memory supplied — attached to Celene’s court, and apparently seeking the protection of the Inquisition now that her sponsor was dead. Morrigan and Siobhan were standing close together, in the middle of the terrance. It certainly didn’t _look_ as though the Inquisitor was being threatened in any way. Both women appeared relaxed, were almost smiling at one another… yet Cassandra couldn’t shake a deep sense of unease at the scene.

“I’ve certainly seen enough, in and outside of the Circles, to recognize the truth of that,” Siobhan said to Morrigan. “You offer me your knowledge… your skills… well, I could not possibly refuse such a tempting proposal.” The Inquisitor gave the other woman an enticing smile, then reached out and took up one of Morrigan’s hands. The gesture was decidedly more flirtatious than was strictly proper, and it made Cassandra feel even more profoundly discomforted. 

Siobhan, still smiling and maintaining eye contact with Morrigan, raised the other woman’s hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles that lingered an instant too long. “Welcome to the Inquisition, Morrigan,” Siobhan said, straightening.

Morrigan’s eyebrows rose delicately, and her lips curled up another fraction. “A most gracious response,” she said, amused. She stepped back, saying, “I shall meet you at Skyhold,” and turned to walk back into the palace.

Cassandra froze where she stood. Morrigan gave her a keen glance as she swept past, her voluminous skirts rustling and her jewellery glinting in the torchlight, powerful and exotic and provocative. Cassandra’s breath caught, and then Morrigan was gone.

Hesitating, Cassandra glanced out to the terrace. Siobhan stood, framed by the doorway, looking curiously at Cassandra. Regrettably, slinking away unseen was impossible. The Inquisitor was evidently not in any immediate danger, yet… Cassandra felt agitated, strangely upset with Siobhan about what she had witnessed. Little wonder, though; Leliana did not entirely trust Morrigan, Cassandra knew, but the witch had obviously persuaded Siobhan to allow some kind of connection to the Inquisition.

Cassandra was caught up in her turmoil long enough for Siobhan to tilt her head inquiringly and say, “Cassandra! Is everything all right?”

Cassandra drew in a careful breath, but then let it out, not sure what to say. Everything _was_ all right, after all. She had no reason to feel so apprehensive, as though some critical vulnerability was being exposed. 

Attempting to shake off her anxiety, Cassandra stepped onto the terrace. “Yes, Inquisitor. I suppose… I am merely a little out of sorts.”

Siobhan fell into step beside her, and they walked to stand closer to the balustrade, away from the hallway. Although they could still hear the music from the ball, faintly, out here it was quiet and still. Cassandra felt herself relax a tiny bit.

“That’s quite understandable,” Siobhan said. “I can’t imagine you enjoyed much about tonight. The outfits, the Game, the scrutiny based on your name and rank… I’m sure it was even worse for you than the actual fighting!” she added, smiling. 

Cassandra glanced over at the Inquisitor. “You certainly know me well.”

Siobhan gave a low laugh. “I suspect that _anyone_ who saw you tonight would know that about you by now.” Her expression became earnest, and she turned toward Cassandra. “I appreciate you coming with us, Cassandra, truly. I am aware that this was not a mission you wanted to be on. But the fighting would not have gone nearly so well without you.” Her mouth quirked. “Why, I believe that one Venatori would have lopped off a limb or worse, had you not been there.”

“It is my duty to protect you,” Cassandra said, “and I, too, am glad I was there. Though, as you say, I could have done without the rest of the evening.”

“Yes, I don’t blame you,” Siobhan said, amused. “Much as I find the Game and its players entertaining, even _I_ am well and truly sapped after all that. I must admit, I made my escape as soon as I could! I’m rather surprised you stayed inside as long as you did.”

“I believe you had the right idea,” Cassandra replied. “If I never have to make conversation with Orlesian nobles again, it will be too soon.”

“Oh? You didn’t enjoy that visit I saw you having with Comte Gabriel earlier?” Siobhan asked, her eyebrows arching expressively.

Cassandra sneered. “He insisted on talking about _soup_ for fifteen minutes.”

Siobhan laughed again. “Only fifteen minutes? Hardly enough time to scratch the surface of the distinctions between bisques and bouillabaisses! Did he tell you about the importance of getting prawns from — ”

“From Jader, which are superior in texture to those from nearer Halamshiral,” Cassandra said, torn between exasperation and amusement. “I take it he cornered you at some point?”

“I was on the periphery of a larger group he was dominating with his culinary discourse. I was listening, but mostly watching the others who felt trapped into the conversation. You’d be surprised how expressive these people can be, even masked — their discomfort and irritation was _palpable_.”

Cassandra shook her head. “Orlesians,” she said, with resigned disdain. “I am very glad that we will be able to return to Skyhold shortly. The sooner the better.”

Siobhan hummed in response, and turned to face the balustrade, looking out into the darkened courtyard. 

Cassandra was a little confused at the abrupt drying-up of the Inquisitor’s playful demeanour. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No,” Siobhan said. “Not about tonight, anyway. Things went according to plan for once. I couldn’t be happier.” She glanced at Cassandra, offering a smile.

Cassandra was not always especially perceptive about other people’s feelings. But something was obviously bothering Siobhan. Her body language — leaning over and away from Cassandra, glancing at her rather than turning toward her, hands clasping her elbows — was unmistakeable, even for Cassandra. A sudden thought, alarming and unpleasant, arose in Cassandra’s mind. “Is it — is it something to do with that woman you were speaking with earlier?”

Siobhan seemed genuinely surprised. “Morrigan? Well… she’s agreed to be an advisor to the Inquisition. I think she’ll be invaluable. She has knowledge of things we need to understand, to meet the threat Corypheus poses.”

Cassandra could feel her lips pursing in distaste. She recalled her earlier discomfiture, watching the Inquisitor being drawn in by Morrigan. “Are you certain we can trust her, Siobhan? She seems… shady.”

The Inquisitor shrugged, raising her hands. “I don’t think she poses any immediate risk to us. And she really will bring a specific kind of knowledge to the Inquisition, knowledge we need, even if it’s perceived as dangerous… or _shady_ ,” she added, teasingly.

Cassandra grimaced. “You seem determined to bring her into your confidence,” she said. She remembered Morrigan’s piercing eyes as she swept past Cassandra. The way Morrigan and Siobhan had been standing so close. How Siobhan had kissed the other woman’s hand, had been almost coquettish, had looked at Morrigan… had looked at Morrigan the was Siobhan had once looked at Cassandra, before Cassandra had asked her to cease her flirtation. Cassandra shook her head as though to clear the unwelcome thought.

“Well, yes,” Siobhan said. “As determined as I am to bring in any other potentially useful ally.”

Cassandra snorted. “The appointment will have to be discussed among the advisors,” she said, feeling unreasonably irked. “It seems likely that your judgment in this may not be entirely sound,” she said, a little shocked at her own hostility.

“What do you mean?” Siobhan looked astonished rather than insulted.

“You have spent all evening in the presence of Orlesian finery and decadence,” Cassandra said, wiling herself to stop speaking yet somehow unable to. “And here is a woman who has close ties to the Empire without truly being part of it. Who has all the allure of nobility without the attendant constraints. And she comes to you, perfumed and coiffed and elegant, in her provocative gown, and she — she _seduces_ you into accepting her appointment!” Cassandra finished. She felt her face flushing, from a roiling mix of anger and shame.

“‘Seduces’?” Siobhan said, incredulous, on the edge of laughter. “Cassandra, what — are you _jealous?_ ”

Cassandra sputtered, outraged. “Of course not! I am concerned about the Inquisition, and who it welcomes into its inner circle.” Siobhan was fully laughing now, one hand pressed to her belly. Cassandra felt her face burn. This was pointless! If the Inquisitor would not listen to a rational objection to involving an apostate witch in the Inquisition, there was no point in even trying to speak with her. She was about to walk away when Siobhan spoke again.

“Oh, Cassandra, you are such a fascinating creature!” the Inquisitor said, smiling. Her tone was so warmly affectionate that it stopped Cassandra short, dulling her fury considerably. “You are one of the most intelligent, perceptive, and self-aware people I have ever met. It’s true! I can’t tell you how much I admire your acumen and mindfulness, since the day I met you. And yet,” Siobhan said, shaking her head, “you somehow misread matters of emotion so thoroughly, even when everything is so obvious, right there in front of you.”

Cassandra blinked. “I think,” she said carefully, “that you give me both too much and too little credit. I do not think I am especially intelligent or perceptive in most matters… and I am not convinced that I am wrong about what you hope for with Morrigan.”

Siobhan pursed her lips in consideration. “What I hope for with Morrigan is that she will be a useful ally and a worthwhile advisor. Beyond that, I would hope that she’s pleasant and friendly, or at least reasonably civil, since she is to be working closely with myself and the other advisors. But, Cassandra, I am absolutely not interested in courting Morrigan, nor in being seduced by her. And I am quite certain _she_ has no intentions of actually seducing _me_.”

“But… Siobhan, what I saw when — you were flirting, and — you kissed her hand…” Cassandra trailed off, no longer angry, just unaccountably confused and miserable.

Siobhan gave her a shrewd look. “Morrigan is… a very earthy kind of woman. I could tell from our brief acquaintance that she would respond well to a kind of flattering flirtation that was obviously all surface, with no real intention behind it. And, admittedly, that is one of the more enjoyable ways of interacting with a potential new ally! But, truly, Cassandra — I have no attraction to Morrigan.”

“Morrigan is powerful and impressive… and beautiful,” Cassandra said, feeling wretched and self-conscious. She was painfully aware, as she had not been previously, of the scratchy and frumpy uniform she wore. “I know that you — that you are attracted to women,” she said, cursing her ridiculous, clumsy tongue. Why was she saying this? Yet she could not seem to stop. “Why would you not be attracted to her? With all that she could give to you?”

“Morrigan is not my type, Cassandra,” Siobhan said softly. She gazed at Cassandra, her expression tender.

Cassandra fell silent. The turbulence and unease that had gripped her heart since she had approached the terrace fell away, and in their place, a hopeful flash of warmth took hold. She felt sure that Siobhan was implying something more, but… no. Cassandra could not allow herself to even start thinking such things. To cover her confusion, she said, “It will all be sorted out when we get back to Skyhold.” Indeed, she could hardly wait to get back to familiar territory, away from all these reprehensible Game-playing dolts. Somewhere she could get her feet back under her, and her head on straight, after the various trials and turmoils of this evening.

Siobhan was still looking at her tenderly. She took a step forward, closer, and Cassandra’s breath caught in her throat. “I know you are anxious to return to Skyhold. But there is one thing I would like to do before we go.” She held out one hand, in a formal gesture, bowing slightly. “May I have this dance, Lady Cassandra?”

Cassandra’s heart pounded. Disconcerted, she glanced past the Inquisitor’s shoulder into the shadows of the courtyard, looking anywhere but at Siobhan’s sweet and vulnerable smile. “A dance,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “After all we’ve been through tonight?”

Siobhan did not move. “Can you think of a better way to celebrate?” she asked.

Something inside Cassandra unfolded and opened, something she hadn’t been aware she had been holding tightly closed. The abrupt burst of ease and happiness inside of her caused her to smile, almost against her will, at Siobhan, who smiled back and took her hand.

The Inquisitor led Cassandra through the dance steps, in time with the music they could hear coming from the ballroom. Cassandra found she could not look away from Siobhan, from her striking green eyes, her lovely smiling features. They moved together in harmony, step by step, Siobhan’s hand firm and sure on Cassandra’s hip, her shoulder strong and broad beneath Cassandra’s hand, close enough that their bodies, their faces, were close enough to share warmth in the chill night air.

Yet Cassandra could not relax entirely, and in a small fit of nervousness, she said, “I suppose this isn’t _terrible_.”

Siobhan’s smile widened in delight, and she chuckled. “There’s no pleasing you, is there?” she asked affectionately. “A dance, alone on a balcony, after a resounding victory. How could it _be_ more romantic?”

Cassandra hesitated, a little embarrassed. But, truly, a romantic sensibility was nothing to be embarrassed about, was it? Half-seriously, she replied, “To be more perfectly romantic, there would need to be flowers, and candles, and poetry.”

“There are myriad flowers close by, in the courtyard,” Siobhan replied, grinning. “And there are no candles out here, but…” She took her right hand, briefly, from Cassandra’s waist, and gestured, glowing magical energy flowing from her fingertips. Radiant orbs, in soft shades of blue and violet and gold, settled in chains and clusters on the stones of the wall, on the balustrade, on a few close tree branches, bathing the terrace in shimmering luminescence. Then Siobhan returned her hand to Cassandra’s hip, and continued their steps through the dance while Cassandra looked around in wonder at the beauty Siobhan had made for her.

Then Siobhan pulled Cassandra in closer, maintaining the steps of the dance, so she could murmur in her ear, “As for poetry…

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin  
Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in  
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove  
Dance me to the end of love  
Dance me to the end of love…”

Cassandra closed her eyes, overwhelmed. She could smell the flowers from the courtyard. Together she and Siobhan moved through the steps of the dance, swaying, Siobhan holding her close. 

Part of Cassandra’s mind raised a protest: this was _wrong_ , she should not be dancing like this (closely, intimately, rapturously) with the _Inquisitor_ , with a _woman!_ A woman, her leader, whose advances she had previously rejected, for very sound reasons!

But… it was a weak protest. Although Siobhan had withdrawn her more pointed flirtations with Cassandra, she had remained friendly and open and attentive, and Cassandra’s heart had had responded in little ways to the little affections the Inquisitor still offered. As a courtship — if it could be called a courtship — it was not grand or romantic or showy. But their friendship-courtship had been slowly growing and deepening for many months, building an intimacy and regard that Cassandra found she could not deny, not in this moment.

And this moment was truly grand and romantic, Cassandra thought, opening her eyes, gazing at the lovely and brilliant lights that surrounded them. She felt the last of the night’s tension fall away, and gave entirely in to the happiness of the moment.

“Cassandra,” Siobhan murmured, softly, close to Cassandra’s ear. “I have never stopped wanting you. And I do not want any other. You know that, don’t you?”

Cassandra turned her head to look at Siobhan, their faces inches apart. Siobhan met her gaze. She looked more vulnerable and uncertain than Cassandra had ever seen. She was seized with an overpowering urge to reassure Siobhan, to bring her the same deep happiness Cassandra felt herself right then. Rather than rely on words — which could be beautiful and powerful, but which Cassandra could never deploy with the mastery she wished for — Cassandra tilted her head, closed her eyes, and kissed Siobhan’s lips.

Siobhan stopped moving, and their dancing paused. Her hand pressed on Cassandra’s waist, pulling them even closer together, and she kissed Cassandra back, carefully and tenderly, their lips moving slowly. It was incredibly pleasurable, comfort and ecstasy all mixed together, and Cassandra wanted to lose herself in Siobhan’s arms, in her kisses.

The kiss ended, as gently and tenderly as it began, and Siobhan pulled back to look at Cassandra. “Oh,” Siobhan said, quietly, and this one word — and her expression, not quite a smile, of open joy — was so full of wonder and adoration that Cassandra could not prevent a smile from rising to her features.

Siobhan smiled back, not her usual wide and cheerful smile, but a tender and private smile, and Cassandra’s heart thrilled. Then Siobhan’s hand pressed again on her waist, and she began to sway to the music they could still hear from the ballroom. Cassandra gave into it, again, and leaned in, pressing their bodies together, cheek to cheek. Siobhan’s body was warm, soft and welcoming, and her arms strong and sure as they held Cassandra. It was not quite a proper dance, as they were not following any steps, really, just swaying together in time with the melody that drifted around them.

Soon, Cassandra knew, the dance would end. They would return to Skyhold, and everything would become infinitely more difficult and complicated than it was at this moment.

But for tonight, now, she could be here, surrounded by Siobhan’s beautiful romantic gestures, in her arms, dancing in the dark but cradled by love’s lights.

**Author's Note:**

> Liberties have been taken with seafood acquisition, geography, magic use, etc. But, all for a good cause, right?
> 
> Siobhan's poem is "Dance Me To The End of Love" by Leonard Cohen.


End file.
